


Scar Tissue

by missanotherboat



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Body Positivity, Bookstores, Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Poetry, references to alcoholism, references to mental illness, vaguely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 05:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12450957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missanotherboat/pseuds/missanotherboat
Summary: All wounds heal. (Flashes of a relationship, from August to December.)





	Scar Tissue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noxelementalist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxelementalist/gifts).



> I hadn't planned on writing any treats for this round, but Jess and Dean have been on my mind a lot lately and I couldn't resist the challenge of bringing them together. A bit last minute and very unbeta'd, so I apologize for any mistakes - I hope you find something to enjoy in it, regardless!

They had met for the first time (for the second time) in August, the result of Dean starting classes at UPenn and reaching out to schedule a time to have coffee and make amends. By September, Dean was a regular patron of readings and slams, and in October he read a piece.

_This is a requiem for who I was…_

They went back to Dean’s apartment that night with the vague plan of workshopping. The clock flicked to 10:30 a few minutes after they walked in, and Dean excused himself, opening the kitchen cabinet and pulling down a prescription bottle. Jess berated himself for staring until he saw the lithium label, and berated himself again for thinking  _damn, that makes sense_.

Jess casually suggested they have a drink and Dean chuckled, pointing out a small stack of sobriety chips on the end-table. A lightbulb had burned out in the living room, and they sat silently in the hazy light streaming in from the kitchen.

In November, Jess went home with him after a slam, their lack of plans intertwined with their lack of inhibitions. They knew what was going to happen, just as they knew the way they looked at each other had gone far beyond admiration and unto the realm of intense, if confounding, emotion.

Dean had replaced the lightbulb but they left it off, their hearts beating in time as Dean let his hand linger on Jess’s thigh. They fell into each other, limbs intertwining in the dark, their breath hot against each other’s necks.

In the morning, Jess awoke to the sound of the shower. Dean left the door open, and Jess watched in silence as Dean’s silhouette moved behind the curtain. There was a comfort to this intimacy that he didn’t understand. This was the kind of moment that gave poets something to write about.

After a few minutes, Dean opened the curtain and toweled off. Jess stood up and walked into the bathroom, swishing toothpaste without a brush. Dean turned around and pulled on a fresh pair of shorts. Jess spotted the scar out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly curious, and still slightly asleep, he asked where it came from.

Dean smiled, and recounted the story of a treehouse fall when he was six that resulted in his mom having the bandage him up as he cried himself to sleep. Jess had nodded his head, letting the story register in some repository of Dean facts deep in his brain.

It was December, and the world had grown exceptionally cold. Dean was taller, but Jess had fallen into the role of the big spoon, tasked with keeping the bed warm enough that Dean could go to sleep without a shirt. Jess absentmindedly traced a finger over the smooth skin of Dean’s back. A long, thin scar ran down his side. Jess traced its shape, gently shuffling Dean’s waistband below his hipbone until its entire length was exposed.

Maybe it was the literary part of his brain working overtime, but at some point he had started assigning meaning to it. It was the perfect encapsulation of the most fundamental part of their relationship: they had lives before they knew each other, they had even more life before they met again, and the past had left its marks on both of them.

He had read once that love was about the desire to share as much with one another as possible, but that didn’t sound right to him anymore. Maybe love was about the bravery to share the past. Jess leaned up, pulling his t-shirt off and pulling Dean closer. The added body heat radiated across his chest. He brushed Dean’s hair behind his ear and gently kissed his neck.

Dean looked up at him, his eyes squinting as he adjusted to the sunlight streaming through Jess’s hair. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Jess smiled. There was a pause, and the world stood still for a moment. “I love you.”

Without missing a beat, Dean grinned. “I love you, too.”

They stayed in each other’s arms for a while, and Jess began to reevaluate things. Maybe the future-sharing approach wasn’t as hackneyed as he thought.


End file.
